Rubbing Alcohol, a poem by Chris Callard at Spillwords.com

Rubbing Alcohol

Rubbing Alcohol

written by: Chris Callard

 

Rubbing alcohol, the odor recalled
from Dr. Cleveland’s office when I was a kid.
Later, in high school, I was stressed about maybe not graduating,
having skipped lots of gym classes, thinking
that would disqualify me because, why?
Who knows?
We were all kind of dumb back then.
So I was more nervous than anyone thought and it was
giving my stomach some grief so for the first time in ages
I went to Doc Cleveland.
He said take it easy, it’s gonna be fine.
Simple as that.
Back then, I didn’t ask for any pills,
though they’ve filled a need over these many years.
Anyway, I walked with cap and gown,
and tossed the mortarboard in the air at the end
like everybody else and went on to become
whatever it is I am now, progressing past pediatricians, of course.
I hate memory poems that drip with sentimentality.
But I can still see his face, its weak chin and kind eyes,
and even now smell rubbing alcohol out of the blue.

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